Final Moments
by deducing-opera-ghost
Summary: Redemption, retribution, and realization. The characters of the tragic love story finally understand what it means to love...far too late. Oneshot


**Final Moments**

**Dedicated To:** Adrienne. Rest In Peace

* * *

Tonight, Erik was going to die.

If his sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, gaunt frame, and dirty, soaked clothing weren't an indication, it was the fact that he stood in the middle of the empty streets of Paris without a mask, his sparse, wispy hair plastered to his head. The horrible abomination that he called his face stung as the raindrops beat down on his sensitive skin. It was rain unlike anything the people of France had ever seen… each raindrop exploded with the force of a bombshell on contact with any surface. It was with that same force that beat Erik's already drained and weak body. He sank to his knees, unable to stand anymore.

_I am the Opera Ghost. The invincible Phantom. I am Don Juan Triumphant, _thought Erik. _Look at me now people of Paris. Feast your eyes on the man you have destroyed!_

His empire was the Opera House. That was burned down, destroyed. His love… his only love, was Christine. That was far-gone, out of his reach in more then one way. He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a thoroughly soaked handkerchief. It was white and plain, two words threaded in blue letters.

_Christine Daae. _

"Oh Christine…" he tried to say, but a raspy gurgle came out of his lips instead, his voice being out of use for so long.

He remembered her voice, so sweet and clear, like the chiming of bells. Who had taught her to sing like that? He did. Not the precious Vicomte… he did. Erik did. Who inspired her? He did. Not the Vicomte. It was like a chant inside his head… _'not the Vicomte, not the Vicomte…' _

He remembered the first time he had met her as if it was yesterday— a child, a scrawny, sickly thing bending before the altar. Her hands were pressed together in a praying stance, her body rocked with silent sobs. How wonderful it was to see her tears subside when he began to sing! How wonderful it was to know that he could ease someone else's pain!

He had set her apart from the childish, vain ballerinas. He acted like a true Angel would: watching over her, protecting her from the cruelties of the human mind, teaching her. He nurtured and cared for her—in a way, he saw himself in Christine and didn't want her to be a broken, distorted person as he was. He let her ask him her questions. _Tell me your secrets_, he would whisper into her ear when she was alone and sad. And she would always tell him.

He had watched her grow up……her voice grew more heavenly……her face grew prettier…… and he had thought that once she saw him, knew that he was her beloved Angel, she would embrace him. She would know him. She would _love_ him.

He was wrong.

_Oh Christine_, he thought wretchedly. _Why can't I stop loving you? Why can't you leave me alone? You think that I am the one who haunts you, the one who terrorizes you, but my dear child, it is you who has, and always will, haunt me for all of eternity_…

He couldn't let her go, even though he could never have her. He couldn't stop loving her. He couldn't stop hating her.

_If only you had given she me chance Christine. If only I could see you one last time, I would tell you……I would tell you……_

His mind fell blank for a moment as he thought of what he would say, should Christine turn up magically in the dank corner of Paris. Would he kiss her? Cry for her? Would he say terrible things to her for betraying him, for leaving him?

_I would tell you I need you. _

At the moment, Erik felt a constricting weight fall off his chest, a slow realization coming over him. He wasn't an Angel. He was a man. A man, like any other man on the face of this Earth, who made mistakes. He had imprisoned Christine. He had lied to her. He had tricked her.

_I would tell you I'm sorry. _

It wasn't Christine's fault after all, he realized. He was the villain of this story. He was the one who deserved to burn in hell. He had, up until this moment, thought Christine false. A traitor. But now, as he saw his actions under a new light, he now understood her final decision. He was insane; no woman in her right mind would take him willingly, especially not fragile, sweet Christine.

He felt a wave of relief wash over him. His Christine was not some wicked Dahlia, she was still his sweet, innocent Angel. She just wanted someone safe…someone to take care of her…he couldn't do that. Oh, no one could ever love her as much as he did, but there was no way a killer and manipulator could ever keep her safe.

_You fool_, he thought. _How dare you think of love? How dare you dream of such an innocent, clean, beautiful thing? How dare think you are human, like everyone else?_

He shook his head at himself, almost reproachfully. In some unaware part of his mind, he was glad it was raining, so no one would see the tears that were trailing down his cheeks. They came fast and thick, but he wasn't shaking, nor was he sobbing. He let them fall for one last time.

_Poor fool, he makes me laugh……hahaha……poor, poor fool……hahah……_

His lay on his side, his throbbing knees unable to take his weight.

_Ha……ha…HA…HA…_

The shouts of laughter inside his head turned into screams…screams of the audience, once they had seen his face…

He could see Christine standing in front of him, brighter then the sun itself, standing on the sidewalk. She smiled and knelt down beside him.

_Oh Erik_, she said. _Sometimes people part. Sometimes, you do not get what you want. Sometimes, you lose the people you love the most. _

He nodded absentmindedly.

_But sometimes…… you must let go. Some things can never be, and you must accept that. You have to let me go Erik. _

Erik noticed for the first time that there was a shackle encircling her wrist. Trailing from the thick metal was a chain that was attached to his own arm. He stared blankly at the piles of silver links on the ground.

_You must let go Erik…_

He remembered her sweet kiss……the scent of her warm breath on his cheek…… the shimmering tears clinging to her long lashes……He had caused those tears. He was the one who had caused her pain.

"Oh Christine…" he said to the vision. "I love you…"

The vision's smile faltered and she glanced mournfully at the chains that bound her to him.

" …I'm sorry."

And he truly was. He was sorry for being selfish and deceitful. He loved her…which was why he was happy that she was happy, even though she couldn't share that happiness with him.

The chains shattered into a million pieces and Christine's face grew brighter and, if possible, more beautiful. It hurt Erik to look at her. How he wanted to touch her…

He reached out a trembling hand as his eyesight began to blur. But the vision was moving away, her voice getting fainter…

_Goodbye, Erik_…

_Goodbye my love_, he replied.

And for the first time, he, Erik felt content. It was good to feel this relaxed, this final moment of peacefulness.

Erik closed his eyes for one final time and fell into darkness once more.

This time it was for eternity.

* * *

Christine Daae— or rather, the Countess DeChangy— stared out of her window, the rain making it impossible for it see anything besides an indistinct mixture of color.

_Where are you now?_

She thought of Erik in the rain sopping wet and her heart clenched. Was he wet or dry? Hungry or starving? Happy or unhappy?

_Happy?_ thought Christine with a snort. _How could he be happy? She had broke his heart in every sense. He had nothing……and he lost everything. _She marveled at the degree of sanity he still possessed. She wouldn't have lasted half as long as he had.

Guilt, like poison, began to seep into her veins, clog up her thinking. But why was she guilty? _Why was she guilty?_ Did she regret leaving Erik? How could she, when she had a husband who loved her more then life itself?

But three weeks had passed since the scene at the Opera and she wasn't forgetting. Once, it even occurred to her that she missed her Angel.

She remembered how he had made her famous… everyone knew who Christine Daae was, and her fame only increased when she married Raoul.

She remembered how he sang to her when she was tired and alone. No one was with her in that dark time of her life.

She remembered all of this and she didn't know why.

Then her mind began to form a thought, a forbidden thought, an insane thought.

Did she still love her Angel?

She didn't know what disturbed her more… the fact that she had thought of this question to begin with, or the fact that she didn't know the answer.

_Do I… care for Erik?_

_Yes_, said a little voice inside her head. _Love the man who lied to you and tricked you and kidnapped you. Someone who pried into your secrets and forced you to love him. That was all he wanted... 'Just bare your soul for me Christine and let me break you over and over again.' _

She sneered.

But… did she refuse to be with Erik because she was afraid?

Afraid to be an object of a love so fierce as Erik's love.

Afraid to not have safe life, with a normal husband and house.

Afraid… she was afraid of the unknown.

She was a coward.

The force of her own words hit her hard.

_I was—am—a coward. I ran away, not because I didn't love him, but because I was afraid._

Raoul… there was also no denying that she loved Raoul. Her sweet, handsome, lovable Raoul. She loved him, without doubt about it.

But did she love Erik as well?

Maybe.

A strange warmth was spreading from her breast to the tips of her finger.

Erik.

Erik.

Erik.

Tomorrow, she would start looking for him again. She knew that there were many things that weren't said that should have been… and they would be said, as soon as she found her Angel again.

Maybe, just maybe, she might love him.

With that thought in her mind, she went to sleep.

* * *

She was woken the next morning by her maid, who was shaking her by her shoulders.

"There are two men at the door, my lady. They request to see you at once. An urgent matter."

Christine tried to wipe the sleep from her eyes as she wondered who would want to meet her. It was usually her husband people had business with, not herself.

"I'll be right there."

Christine went to wash her face and change her dress. By the time she had descended the stairs of her home and made her way to the door, she felt refreshed and full of life again.

Two men were standing in the doorway, one with a mustache and one without, both obviously uncomfortable. She smiled radiantly at them.

"Yes?"

"Are you Madame DeChangy?" asked one of the two men. She nodded, her curiosity peaking as the as the two men glanced at each other apprehensively.

"We would like you to come with us. There is something we want to discuss with you."

"Oh," said Christine. "Let me show you the way to the living room then…"

"No, no," said the man without a mustache. "We'd rather not talk about it here. If you can come with us, it would be much better. We promise you that we mean you no harm," he added, catching the look on her face.

Christine paused hesitatingly for one second, then nodded silently.

* * *

The horse drawn carriage came to a halt. They—Christine and the two men—had been riding in it for half an hour. Neither man had said a word to her, only continued to look at her with concern. Christine wanted to scream with irritation

They both attempted to assist her in climbing down from the carriage, but she politely refused. She looked around at her surroundings and noticed the pure white building, low and squat in stature. The men began walking toward its double doors and she followed behind them.

"Messieurs," she said, her voice barely containing her fury. "Can you tell me _what _in God's name is going on?"

The men walked down a hallway, and stopped in front of a door. They looked at each other then looked at Christine.

"We shall tell you in here Madame," said one of the men.

Christine gazed doubtfully at the door.

"We promise to explain everything in here, Madame."

She swallowed.

"Fine. This better be good."

Christine entered the room and instantly took note on how low the temperature was. The second thing she noted was the pungent odor that hung in the air. It smelled like…… like…… like _death_.

That was when Christine spotted the table. Something lumpy and misshapen lay covered completely by a white sheet. Something that looked horribly like—

Christine whirled around and stared with horror at the men.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked in a strangely high-pitched voice.

One of the men stared at the ground in silence, while the other reached into his pocket and pulled out something splotched, dirty white and muddy brown mixed together unattractively.

"He was found in the street last night. Died of hypothermia, it seems," said the man handing her the thing from his pocket.

The handkerchief was slightly damp and very dirty. Christine could barely make out the words that were stitched there. She brought the scrap of lace closer to her face and felt her heart stop beating.

_Christine Daae._

"We thought you might be able to help us identify the body," said the man, striding across the room and removing the white sheet to reveal a ghastly skull-like face.

The world seemed to shatter before her eyes. It was as if someone had hit her over the head with a very heavy object. Everyone and everything in the room vanished. The only thing that she could see was the face of the body.

Erik.

"Madame, can you identify the body?"

Erik was dead.

"Madame?"

Dead. He was dead.

She took a step toward him, her arm stretched out. She touched the pale skin of his throat. The voice would never sing again.

Not to her.

Not to anyone.

Never.

Again.

Dead.

Gone.

Forever.

She smiled and shook his emancipated shoulder gently.

"Erik," she whispered softly. "You can wake up now."

Erik remained motionless and cold, his glassy eyes unseeing, his skin disgustingly yellow. There was no sound from his lips.

"Erik," said Christine, a note of urgency in her tone. "You can wake up now. Please wake up, this isn't funny."

His empty eyes stared back.

"ERIK!" she screamed, raising both her fists and bringing them hard on his chest. There was a crack as his brittle bone broke. "WAKE UP! WAKE UP!"

She felt a strong pair of hands seize her from behind and she struggled wildly. No one can keep her away from her Angel. Not now. Not ever.

"Please don't leave me now!" she sobbed. "Please don't, just when I realized that I…I…I…"

She sobbed with all her heart and soul, struggling against the man who tried to part her from her angel. She was sure Erik was about to sit up and smile, that tiny grin that made the corners of his mouth crinkle. She never had realized that it before but… he smiled at her. Never at anyone else. Only her.

"HOW CAN YOU LEAVE ME?" she screamed at Erik, at fate, at God and she broke free of her bonds and landed on the floor. She crawled up and grabbed Erik's head, holding it against her shoulder. The feel of his body, cold and bony as it was, calmed her down almost at once.

"There, there, Erik," she crooned softly. "Christine's here…no one will find you…your fears are far behind you…"

She stroked his deformity, oblivious to the men in the room who stared at her with horror.

"I think she's lost her mind."

She glared at the man who had spoken and stopped brushing Erik's hair to press a finger to her lips.

"Shh!" she said irritably. "Can't you see the Angel is sleeping?"

She turned her attentions to the corpse and began to hum a soft tune to it. But as her conscience sang calmly, her subconscious wept silently.

_I am so sorry Erik…… I am sorry that all this happened. I destroyed our lives…… I destroyed the man who made me into someone I could be proud of …… and the regret…and guilt…… will live with me……for the rest of my life…I now know…… that when you know someone…… who can love you…… and cherish you…… and care for you…… you hold on to that person……because when that person leaves…… you can always have memories of them…… to help you hope…… to remind you that life goes on…… but I have no memories…… and therefore, no hope…… because I let go…… of the person…… who I loved…… and I will never heal……never love…… never hope……again… _

_The Angel is dead._

-Fin-


End file.
